The HalfBlood Chieftan
by selph
Summary: Jarall; son of the Warchief Thrall and the Human Mage, Jaina Proudmoore. He just wants to be accepted, meet his dad, and see Lady Naga in concert... that's not too much to ask for, right?
1. Prologue

Authors Note: I don't own anything, blah, blah blah. Please be kind. I am ashamed. ;_;. /wibble.

**PROLOGUE**

Jaina Proudmoore quietly barricaded the door to her private quarters in the elegant castle of Stormwind with magic. She was grateful that King Varian Wrynn had given her such a thing. It was a nice change from her drab room on Theramore Isle. Not that she disliked Theramore, because she didn't. Not at all. It was just that sometimes she wanted something classy and big to sleep in... and, well, a little less smelly too. To put it frankly, Theramore often had a strong, fishy smell to it.

She sunk down into a large purple chair perched beside her small coffee table and covered her face with her hands. It had taken all of her willpower to remain calm throughout the day. Now that she had some time to herself, it was time to sit and think -- think about what must be done.

"How could I have let this happen?" She whispered into her hands. It took several long, deep breaths for the Human Mage to control herself long enough to make a rational decision, which everyone knows is hard for a woman to do in the first place. She rose from her seat, smoothing down her silky skirts and double-checked the magical barricade to her door. When Jaina was satisfied with her security arrangements, she crept gingerly to her window. Shutting her eyes tightly, she focused her willpower to create a portal.

"Orgrimmar," Jaina said in a quivering voice.

After a moment of focused power, she opened her eyes and stared intently at the shimmering portal that would take her to place where her future would be decided. Jaina hesitated a moment before stepping inside the portal that let her directly into the Warchief's throne room in the Valley of Wisdom of Orgrimmar.

"Human Scum!"

"Protect our Warchief! None shall get past us!"

"No one hurts our fearless leader! Get out, witch!"

"Hey, can I get a port to Dal? Will tip."

Jaina ignored the calls of the horde as she stepped out of the portal and took a hasty step forward, alarming the guards surrounding the Warchief. They rushed forward, blocking her way to their leader. She froze as the guards pushed toward her, their green faces and beady eyes leering at her. A few of them reached for their swords, threateningly them menacingly toward her.

For a second, Jaina had the urge to lift her staff high into the air and turn them all into frogs, but logic took over and she tossed her staff to the floor beside her. She fell to her knees and hung her head, earning her gasps from all of the horde around her. Desperate, that's what she was and she would not deny it.

"Please!" Jaina's strong voice rang out around the room. "I must speak to your Warchief. It is urgent!"

"Scum mage! We do not trust you dirty humans! We only hire the dancing kind here!" a grunt grunted at her angrily and wagged his pointer finger at her.

Jaina opened her mouth to protest, but the Warchief himself rose from his throne and descended the steps. He cleared his throat, gaining the attention of his peons, "She has my permission to speak without interruption."

The guards were obviously displeased with their Warchief's decision, but backed away from her reluctantly. Many of them continued to cast angry glares at her, while the rest eyed her as if she were a piece of meat. Jaina suddenly felt under-dressed in her silky skirts and slightly provocative shirt. She wanted to cover up but she had nothing to do that with.

She stayed kneeling with her head hung, afraid to look into Thrall's dark eyes, "Privately... May we speak privately? Please, Thrall."

Thrall turned to his guards before any of them had a chance to backtalk. A slight grin of delight crossed his face. He raised his hands and pointed them toward the exit, "Out! Get out!"

Guards hesitantly left, casting awkward glanced at both Jaina and their leader. A few made snide comments about booty call's but they all left without too much drama. A few of them made plans to go to Silvermoon to see Innkeeper Velandra, who was apparently smoking hot and did not object to an Orc or two in her bed.

"Sir..." Vol'jin, the troll leader and one of Thrall's many BFF's, stepped forward. His blue-ish face was worried and he obviously did not trust this Proudmoore wench. He shook his head at the Warchief, alerting him that he did not approve of this private meeting.

"You too, Vol'jin. You will leave. Do not worry. I trust Jaina Proudmoore," Thrall reassured him, yet motioned toward the exit.

Vol'jin let out a small cackle and let out a loud whistle upon realizing what the meeting must be for, to which Thrall punched Vol'jin in the solar plexus and pushed him toward the exit.

"'Eeeey mon," Vol'jin objected. "I'm old, why do you push me? I'm like twenty years your senior, you filthy green frog mon. I hope Jaina gives you scabies."

"That's herpes, my dear Vol'jin," Thrall corrected. "Now get the the hell out before I chase out with my fire elemental like I did at Sylvanas's bad ass party last month."

Vol'jin sighed, nodded, and hobbled toward the exist all the while muttering about never having a good part in any story. Both Jaina and Thrall watched as the Darkspear leader left them alone.

"You may rise, Jaina," Thrall said softly once they were alone.

She rose to her feet, still avoiding his piercing gaze. Jaina let out a desperate sigh, "Thrall... I--"

"Is there a war coming?" Thrall grunted as he began pacing back and forth before her. "I should have known! Yet, that doesn't explain why you want privacy with me? Are you looking for a repeat of... before?"

"No!" She shook her head fiercely. "No. No... it's..."

"What is it?" Thrall asked impatiently.

"Oh Thrall," Jaina murmured, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm..... pregnant."

"What!?" The Warchief roared. He shook his head and quieted his voice, so not to alarm the others outside, who were obviously going to be listening for anything going on.

Jaina nodded and looked down, "I've no idea what to do, Thrall."

"This cannot be possible! This is no good!" Thrall clenched his fists tightly. "What can we do? How are you going to survive in Stormwind, with the questions? King Wrynn will have your head, Jaina! You will be disowned, forgotten! And what of the child? He will be the laughingstock of mankind!"

"I know," she sobbed. "I know. I... I have a plan, I think."

"And what is that? Cover yourself in green paint and pretend to be an Orc? Throw yourself off a balcony like you tried to do at Mal'Ganis's birthday party last year because Illidan wouldn't say that you were pretty?"

"That was just that one time!" Jaina said defensively. "I had too much Volatile Rum! It was a Nathrezim party, you know they are always a little crazy with their high-proof alcohol!"

"Well then, what do you plan on doing then? There's no way an illegitimate love child of Orc and Human will ever be welcome in this world. Never, Jaina! I know you don't believe in the big A, so I really don't know what to suggest. Your King will have you and the unborn child killed if he finds out, which is worse than the big A if you ask me!" Thrall said angrily.

"I will go away for a while," Jaina said calmly, wiping her eyes on the back of her sleeve. "Business trip. Or at least that's what I will tell everyone whom asks. I will find a private place and stay until the baby is born. From there..."

"You cannot bring it here," Thrall interrupted, waving his hands in front of him as if to say 'HELL NO, GIRLFRIEND'. "My people will not have it. It will be killed. It will be frowned upon! I will be the laughing stock of Orgrimmar! Of the entire HORDE! Can you imagine Sylvanas' face if she found out?"

"I'll figure out something then!" Jaina snapped angrily. She glared at the Warchief she thought she loved. This was not _her_ Thrall. He was being a real jerk.

"Please do," Thrall grunted, though his voice was much softer.

"I will," Jaina said curtly. "Now excuse me, I have arrangements to tend to. I hope you enjoy yourself. Don't worry yourself sick over me. I'll be fine. Your child will know nothing of you, I promise."

Thrall sighed, "Jaina..."

Jaina gave a haughty laugh as she retrieved the staff she had thrown down earlier, "Don't 'Jaina' me, Mister! You and your pompous Orcs can die in a fire for all I care!"

"Jaina... Please."

"What, Thrall? What?"

"I'm sorry," he said plainly. He stepped forward and grasped the human mage's hand. "We'll make it through this. Be safe."

She nodded, though her eyes were tear-filled again. She hastily made a portal back to her chambers in the Stormwind castle and left, not bothering to look back at the father of her unborn child.

Once she was gone, Thrall sunk back into his throne and groaned loudly, "What have I gotten myself into?"


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Still don't own Blizz stuff. Be nice. I like shiny things.

**Chapter One**

"Jarall! Jarall, where are you?"

The boy huddled in the alleyway, trying to make himself as small as possible. He didn't want to see _her_. He didn't want to get cleaned up. He wanted to go fishing with Orti, the Goblin boy who lived next door to him in the small town of Ratchet. Orti was the only person who didn't find him grotesque or too weird. He didn't mind that Jarall was half-human, half-orc. Orti didn't care that Jarall had the body structure of a human boy, but had light green skin that made him appear sickly. Orti never stared at Jarall's overlarge brown eyes and large teeth or his thick mass of blonde hair.

"JARALL, NOW!"

Jarall cringed as his guardian shouted at the top of her lungs. Auva Sen'zul was who Jarall considered his real mother, he didn't truly know the woman who had actually given birth to him other than her name and a few facts or things she told him here and there. He only really knew Mama Auva. She was an elderly Troll woman, with long red braids and fierce tusks protruding from her cracked, deep red lips. She was a no-nonsense type of a woman and wouldn't think twice about giving Jarall a spanking. Jarall knew he was going to be in for a hurting if he didn't come out, so he sighed, dusted off his behind and crept out of the alleyway. He looked down at his feet so that he appeared ashamed and maybe Mama Auva would let him off the hook.

Mama Auva was not in the mood and as soon as she caught sight of Jarall, she stomped over to him and snatched him by one of his pale green ears and dragged him back into their small hut of a house. She shoved him toward the tan and fraying sitting chair and began to lay into him, "What do you think you were doing? I told your that your mother was coming! We have to meet her at the private hut in less than thirty minutes! You're still a mess and you're not dressed and – _Ooh_!" She huffed angrily and made a huge clatter as she stomped into the small closet, dragging out a set of proper clothes for Jarall to wear.

"Bathroom, now," she narrowed her red, beady eyes at him and pointed one long, crooked finger toward the bathroom door. Jarall didn't hesitate. He rushed toward the bathroom and undressed himself as quickly as possible, starting up the water so he could at least rinse his hair.

Mama Auva came in behind him, grabbing the soap and a chair. When the water was warm and Jarall was huddled in the bath, she began to scrub his hair fiercely. It was quite painful, but Jarall knew better than to object. Mama Auva wouldn't hesitate to slap him round the ears if he sassed her.

Jarall was out of the bath in record time. His light hair was combed back and braided tightly before being tied back with one of Mama Auva's pale blue ribbons. He was dressed in a pair of dark blue leather pants with a small brown patch on the behind from the time he fell down wearing the pants. Auva dressed him in a white, long-sleeved cloth shirt with a pair of cloth boots to go with it. She gave him a quick look-over and nodded her approval.

"Handsome. Your mother will be pleased," Mama Auva smiled her crooked little smile and went to retrieve her satchel before they hopped on their rented Kodo for the ride to their secret meeting place with his mother.

"I don't even want to see her," Jarall muttered before he had a chance to stop himself. Immediately, he clamped his mouth shut and stared at his black cloth boots. Mama Auva grunted fiercely, a sound of firm disapproval.

"She comes to see you every year," Mama Auva replied curtly. "It's your birthday tomorrow Jarall. She wants to see you. Besides, she'll bring you a present. You'll be thirteen this year, you know."

"She doesn't care about me," Jarall said softly, a little embarrassed of admitting this aloud. "If she did, she would have let me live with her. She'd tell me who my dad is. I'd see her more than just once a _year_. I don't care about her. You're my mother, Mama Auva. I don't need her."

Mama Auva flushed at first, obviously flattered by Jarall's compliment. She, too, thought of Jarall as her own and didn't approve of how Jaina "Stick-Up-Her-Butt" Proudmoore tossed him aside the way she did. And Auva Sen'zul wasn't stupid, she knew who Jarall's father was. Auva composed herself and shook her head, "You will treat her with respect, Jarall."

The ride to the hut seemed to take forever and the hot sun hanging over the Barrens was beating down on them both, building beads of sweat on both of their foreheads. Jarall stared at the wildlife around them, the Zhevra galloped alongside the Kodo while the lion cubs watched sleepily from their spot beside the trees. Jarall loved the area surrounding Ratchet. There was always something to see; whether it was one of the lions attacking and bringing down one of the violet raptors or a vicious game of hide and seek where one of the Goblin boys got stuck in a tree while a hyena howled at them to come down or even a group of Night Elves thinking they were clever enough to raid the Crossroads, but they were usually beat down by a herd of angry Paladins.

Jarall smiled as a small lion cub rolled on it's back and exposed it's small teeth to him. One day that cub would grow up to be big and people would fear him, maybe even respect him. Jarall hoped for the same for himself. Deep down, Jarall knew that would be impossible though. He was half-human, half-orc. He was ugly. He was ridiculed and laughed at and just plain weird, but he wanted to be someone special.

"Looks like your mother's already here," Auva said with a slight hint of irritation to her voice. Jarall always got the impression that Mama Auva was mad at Jarall's real mother, but Mama Auva would never admit it and most certainly treated Jaina Proudmoore with respect when they saw her.

"Who cares?" Jarall muttered to himself. Auva chose not to reply, but cast a dark look his way. He straightened up, flicking a bit of Barren dust off his slacks. The Kodo they rode on wiggled his way to a nearby pond and began drinking up. Jarall patted him on one of his thick legs before following his adoptive mother inside.

"Jarall, my dear! You've grown."

Jarall resisted the urge to cringe at the sickly sweet voice of his human mother. It took him a moment to gain the strength to look up at her. She was the same as ever. Long blonde hair with streaks of gray, almond-shaped blue eyes, pale skin, purple and white robes. Her long Mage staff sat on the table in front of her. Jarall breathed in deep, smelling fresh Human delicacies. He always enjoyed the food his real mother brought. Jaina Proudmoore was a good cook and seemed to know that Jarall always dug right into the herb-roasted chicken first and foremost. She brought it every year for as long as he could remember. Jarall wished he didn't like her food so much, but he couldn't help it. Mama Auva was a good cook too, but there were only so many things you could do with Raptor eggs, lion meat, and caught fish.

"Hi," Jarall said awkwardly as he sunk into one of the seats. He stared at his real mother's staff, noticing the intricate designs on it.

"It's nice to see you as well, Auva. Thank you for bringing Jarall to meet with me," Jaina said politely, passing out small plates with the Stormwind crest on them. Auva scowled at the plates but smiled, hoping Jaina did not catch that.

If Jaina did, she certainly did not say anything. She passed the plate of chicken to Jarall and let him have first pick. He tried not to look delighted as he took a huge leg for himself and scooped a small helping of potatoes on the side. He looked hungrily at the large delicious chocolate cake she brought too. There were thirteen candles on it. She must have baked it just for him.

"How have things been for you two?" Jaina asked while playing with her own food. She never seemed to eat while she was here.

"Well," Auva replied, politely eating her share of the food. "Jarall is very smart. He is passing all of his lessons and he has a bad habit of rough-housing with the Goblin kids."

Jaina smiled, "Good for you, Jarall. I'm glad you're learning so much."

"Overall, he is a good boy," Mama Auva said, her hand patting him gently on the head.

"Oh," Jaina said, reaching behind her. "I've got you a present. Auva said you were a fan of Lady Naga so I brought you concert tickets. Two of them, so maybe your Goblin friend can go too."

Jarall's eyes lit up. Lady Naga was almost as good as the Tauren Chieftains and Orti loved Lady Naga more than life. It was perfect! Jarall knew exactly what t-shirt he would wear and what he'd have her sign..... Oooh and if she sang "Bad Romance with a Murloc" he could die happy....

"Thank you," Jarall managed to say as he took the concert tickets from Jaina's pale hands. He stared at them. Front row?! Oh, Orti was going to _freak_ when he found out!

Jaina opened her mouth to say something else, but loud noises from outside caught their attention. Jarall didn't recognize the foreign language from the people outside, but Jaina certainly did. She rose to her feet and shushed both Auva and Jarall before whispering, "Draenei! Draenei are here!"

Jaina ran outside and quickly sealed the door to the small meeting hut with a spell. She greeted the Draenei with her hands spread wide. "Greetings Draenei!" she chirped in their strange language. "Where are you headed?"

A female Draenei warrior raised her large axe to the sky and sneered at the human, "To Orgimmar! We will slay the Warchief! For his Horde have injured our great leader."

"The Prophet is hurt?" Jaina repeated, her eyes wide. "How badly? Is being tended to?"

Another Draenei stepped forward, this time a bulky male with an eye patch. He was carrying a very shabby crossbow but seemed to be as proud as they come. He raised an eyebrow at Jaina, "He is being tended to by our finest. We seek revenge. It is surprising that you are here, Proudmoore. Have you business here in the Barrens?"

"Yes," she said, her voice weary and grave. "I had to meet with one of the head Trolls of Ratchet. Apparently one of the Gnomes were attacked while waiting for a boat. This is a neutral town afterall and that sort of behavior is prohibited."

"Trolls," the female Draenei scoffed and stepped forward, her chainmail pants clicked as she moved. "Sick creatures. We should kill them all. Ha! To Orgimmar, my people! There, we will kill the Warchief! The Night Elves will be meeting us in Durotar and the Dwarves and Gnomes shall not be far behind, perhaps some of the humans as well if our messenger is quick."

"Best of luck," Jaina said, tight-lipped.

She watched the parade of Draenei trail off toward Durotar, fear grasping at her throat. She had to warn Thrall... but she couldn't abandon Jarall. It was his birthday tomorrow. She needed to be there for him as his mother. She had to make up for all the time she was gone.

"Excuse me!" a Blood Elf Priest came sauntering up to Jaina, speaking the Human tongue as if it were her first language. "Port? Port to Dalaran?"

"I'm busy," Jaina replied a bit irritably. She had to think. How could she alert Thrall without leaving Jarall?

"Please? Please? Please? Please? 5 Gold? Please?"

"Go away," Jaina snapped. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate.

"10 GOLD!"

"FINE!" Jaina screeched and made a hasty portal. As the priest stepped through it, she began to chuckle. That had been a portal to Ironforge. The smile fell off her face as quick as it had arrived. She trudged back into the hut where Auva and Jarall were waiting, both their plates empty.

"Sorry," she said, hoping neither could see the worry etched in her face.

"The Draenei?" Auva asked simply, knowing that Jaina would know exactly what she meant.

Jaina sighed, "On their way to Orgrimmar. To kill the Warchief."

Auva gasped and jumped to her feet. She steadied herself on the wall and glared daggers at the Human Mage. "You... You will not saying anything? Not warn Thrall?" she cursed under her breath and stormed outside, yelling for the Kodo.

"Jarall," Jaina said before he left to follow Mama Auva. "I'm sorry. This isn't how I wanted to spend your birthday. I wanted to spend time with you, but now--"

"You never want to spend time me except my birthday," Jarall spat at her. "You're always too busy... with... with.... magic and humans and portals and... cooking! I don't even CARE about you! My ma is Auva, not you. She loves me! She cooks me food every day and sews my clothes! She reads me Harry Dotter and the Warlocks Soulstone every day! That's my favorite book and I bet you didn't know that, did you?"

Jaina was obviously hurt, but she willed the pain away as she stared down at her son. She truly was a bad mother. Jaina looked at Jarall with hope; hope that he'd forgive her for failing him completely, "Please, don't..."

"Tell me who my dad is," Jarall demanded, saying what he had wanted to know for years. "Tell me!"

"It's... It's Thrall himself," Jaina whispered. "The Draenei want to kill your father, Jarall."


End file.
